


Sometimes Less is More

by pudding_bretzel



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Dick has his own rules, Emotions, Fluff, Gen, Happy Birthday Jason, Jason is a bookworm, Jason is insecure, Presents, Swearing, because Jason, but Bruce handels it as every parent does, he wings it, just a cute birthday fic I wanted to do for Jason, tim is so done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-02 06:20:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20271343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pudding_bretzel/pseuds/pudding_bretzel
Summary: Bruce is trying his best to make this day a memorable experience for his son. After all, it's his first birthday at the manor and it has to be something special. But maybe it's not all about the biggest and priciest present. Even billionaire Bruce Wayne has to learn that.Or: Jason's first birthdays at the manor, both before and after his death.





	Sometimes Less is More

**Author's Note:**

> Just a small one-shot for Jason's birthday. Enjoy!

Bruce Wayne opened his eyes, blinking up at the ceiling of his bedroom blearily. He turned around in his bed, thinking about getting some more sleep on one of his rare free days. When he swiftly drifted away, almost succumbing to the pull of sleep again, his eyes suddenly shot wide open and he jolted up into a sitting position. 

Because Bruce Wayne didn’t just take a day off work from either of his two ‘jobs’ without a good reason. And today’s reason was a very good one. One he couldn’t allow himself to be late on and sleep in until noon. 

Because today was _the_ day. 

The day Bruce had both anticipated and dreaded at the same time. It could either go well, ending with Jason and him laughing and doing whatever the boy would enjoy the most or it could end disastrous with tears, insecurities and a setback in what he felt like was a good and steadily progressing father-son relationship.

Today was Jason’s first birthday since he’d arrived at the manor. Since he’d bulldozed his way into their lives and became a part of this family to a point where Bruce almost felt safe enough to call him son.

And as of today, his son was thirteen years old. 

He’d planned on showering the boy with presents and attention, just the way Jason had deserved the past thirteen years of his life, but a few sensible words from his trusted friend and butler had returned him to his senses. It probably wasn’t the smartest idea to overwhelm the boy on his first birthday at the manor. The past few months had shown Jason’s preferable way to adjust to things. Slow and steady, not running headfirst through the wall.

Jason was getting better, that much was undeniable. He had adjusted greatly and Bruce was sure that the boy would ace any hardships thrown at him easily, just like Dick did- well okay, looking at their current dispute it could be better, but considering the circumstances Bruce liked to think it could also be far worse.

A quick glance at the clock on his nightstand revealed that he had spent too much time thinking. After refreshing himself in the bathroom and putting on some clothes – some loose cotton slacks and a white shirt with its sleeves rolled up, because despite it being early in the morning it was still already way too hot for his taste – he left his room and made his way down to the kitchen.

Reaching the end of the stairs he could already hear Alfred working in the kitchen. When the rich smell of eggs and ham reached Bruce’s nose, he couldn’t help the edges of his mouth turning upwards.

Once he entered the kitchen, the butler looked up from the sizzling pan on the stove and gave Bruce a rare smile. “Good morning, Master Bruce.” His tone was light, albeit still just as formal as ever. Alfred was good at his job and scarcely broke character but on some rare occasions even he let some of his fatherly care towards his family shine through. 

“Good morning, Alfred,” Bruce answered, preparing himself a small cup of coffee to get his system started. “You’re in a good mood today.”

“Naturally, Master Bruce,” he said, carefully watching the eggs in the pan and coating the egg white with some of the oil in the pan. “If you wouldn’t mind, could you please wake up the young Master. Breakfast is almost ready.”

“Of course, Alfred.” Bruce put down his cup of coffee and made his way upstairs. Hopefully Jason had had a good night’s sleep, so he could enjoy the day to the fullest. In the past few weeks he’d been a little more withdrawn and Bruce had worried but after asking Jason if he wanted to celebrate his birthday, he had approved. Well, it was more a shrug and a mumbled ‘if you want to’ but it was an affirmation, nonetheless.

Bruce could only hope that after today Jason would look forward to his next birthday a bit more.

Jason’s room was silent when Bruce came to a halt in front of the door. With a soft knock he announced himself and waited for an answer. It was surprising when even after another knock there still was no answer. Usually, Jason was up quite early, a habit that had remained from his days on the streets of Gotham, undoubtedly. In the first few weeks of his stay at the manor, Jason had acquired a rather unhealthy sleeping pattern, consisting of only a few hours of sleep at a time, spread throughout the day. With time it had gotten better though and now there was rarely a day where Bruce wouldn’t find Jason and Alfred together in the kitchen early in the morning.

But it seemed today was one of those rare days.

Bruce carefully opened the door and peeked into the room. It was dark, the curtains shutting out the rising sun. Only a few beams reached into the room, allowing Bruce to see the small form in the bed, snuggled up under a blanket and sleeping soundly. 

With a few long strides he reached the bed and sat down on its edge, taking care not to rattle the bed too much. In the darkness it took Bruce a moment to see Jason, but then he saw the dark shock of hair, unruly locks sticking out in every direction. The rest of Jason’s head was covered by the blanket and Bruce stifled a chuckle at the picture. He lifted the blanket away to reveal the sleeping boy’s face, a calm and content expression on it.

Reaching out his hand, Bruce pushed back some of the unruly black hair, stroking Jason’s forehead with his thumb. “Jason, wake up.”

His deep voice elicited a soft grumble from the boy, brows scrunching up in confusion before a set of sleepy teal eyes looked back at him. 

“Morning, chum,” Bruce said, withdrawing his hand from Jason’s head. “Time to get up.”

“Wha’?” Was the slurred answer Bruce received in return, drawing forth a fond smile from him. He rose from the bed and went over to the window, drawing back the curtains. At the sudden flood of sunlight there was a loud groan from the bed as Jason threw the blanket back over his head again. This time Bruce couldn’t hold back the laugh that bubbled up in his throat. 

“Come on, Jay,” he teased, going back to the bed and reaching for the blanket. With a swift motion of his arm, the blanket was removed from the bed, a curled-up Jason the only thing remaining. It was a rather cute picture, especially with Jason’s pout directed at him.

“Alfred is waiting downstairs with breakfast,” he said, folding up the blanket in his hands and putting it down at the foot of the bed. “And you don’t want to sleep in on your special day, do you?”

“No,” Jason mumbled and rose from the bed, his skinny, small body almost drowning in his pajama. Bruce hated seeing all the reminders of Jason’s past abuse. Although, to the boy’s credit, he’d already managed to put on some more weight. Only a few more months and Bruce was sure his clothes would fit perfectly. 

Rounding the bed, he joined Jason at the other side and put an arm around the boy’s shoulder. He pulled him close, squeezing his shoulder in a tender embrace. He still wasn’t sure, when it was too much for Jason and when it was okay to touch him, so it was mostly trial and error. When Jason didn’t say anything or make any moves to get away from him, he squeezed a bit tighter pulling the boy into a one-armed hug. 

“Happy Birthday, chum.”

There was a long moment of silence that followed his words, but the way Jason leaned into the embrace even the tiniest bit was all Bruce needed for reassurance. 

“Thanks,” Jason mumbled in response. 

Even though Bruce wanted to cherish the moment further, he let go of the boy and took a step back to look at him once again. That was when he saw the dark bags under Jason’s eyes and all the joy he’d felt seeped out of him. Instead, concern welled up inside him.

“Is everything okay?” he asked. While it was obvious it wasn’t, he didn’t want to just assume anything.

Jason looked back up at him, surprise evident on his face. Bruce wasn’t sure if it was a good or a bad sign that Jason didn’t know what he was talking about. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Bruce was skeptical about the truthfulness of that statement, but found that Jason did look well, the deep bags aside. Maybe he was just still tired. Hopefully. 

“Alright,” he said and hesitantly retreated to the door. “Alfred and I will wait in the kitchen, take your time.” A small nod from Jason and he finally left the room.

When he returned to the kitchen, the table was set, a few decorations spread on its surface and the food was in the warm oven, just waiting to be served. It smelled heavenly. 

The two of them didn’t have to wait long for Jason. When the boy entered the kitchen, he was quickly engulfed in a second hug, this time by Alfred, who wasn’t quite as awkward about it as Bruce. Then, breakfast – delicious croque madame – was served. 

Breakfast was calm but cheerful nonetheless. Jason and Alfred – for a change sitting and eating with them at the same table – were engaged in conversations about this and that. In the end, their conclusion was that the two of them would prepare todays birthday cake together. While they had cooked together on a few occasions already it was still something new to Jason and he was always so elated when they worked together. Bruce didn’t feel bad in the least when he realized that Alfred was just as bad as he himself when it came to denying Jason anything. 

“So, Jason,” Bruce finally said, breaking the silence that had settled in the room for the past few minutes. “Do you have something you want to do today?”

Jason looked up from his empty plate. He looked better, Bruce noted, now that he’d eaten something and after refreshing himself. The bags under his eyes weren’t completely gone, but they were not as bad anymore either. 

“Not really, I don’t know,” Jason answered, accompanying the words with a lazy shrug. 

“A tradition maybe? Is the something you have done on previous birthdays, Master Jason?” Alfred inquired before taking a sip from his cup. 

Jason seemed to think about it for a short moment, before he answered. “My mom sometimes took me to the big library in uptown. We’d spent some hours there and I could read whatever I want until we had to go back home.”

“That sounds nice,” Bruce said. “We could do that, if you want.” But to his surprise Jason only shook his head.

“Nah, it’s not like I can’t read in the library here at the manor, we don’t need to do that,” he said in his nonchalant way, trying to overplay his unease as he always did, then propped his head up on one of his hands. 

Bruce in all honesty had a hard time holding in a sigh. Jason didn’t want to go to the library, but also didn’t have anything else he wanted to do. On the other hand, Bruce wasn’t allowed to surprise the boy like he’d originally planned to, because it would overwhelm him. Why in the heavens was it so hard to make his son’s first birthday with them a memorable one?

“How about you take the car and go to town? I’m certain the two of you will find something entertaining to do there. In the meantime, I can prepare everything for our baking session, Master Jason, so that when you return we can start immediately. Would that be adequate?”

A shy smile slowly spread on Jason’s face as he listened to Alfred’s suggestion. Not for the first time – and most certainly not the last – Bruce was eternally grateful that he had Alfred at his side. 

It only took one of Jason’s enthusiastic nods to get them all into motion. The dirty dishes were quickly taken care of and the two of them swiftly shooed out of the kitchen by Alfred.

Almost three hours later, Bruce is not surprised in the least to find himself stuck in one of Gotham’s biggest bookstores, looking at his watch only to realize that they had, indeed, spent the last two and a half hours, going from bookstore to bookstore. Never in his wildest dreams had Bruce suspected Jason to love books this much when he’d first seen the boy lifting his tires. In an ironic way the phrase ‘don’t judge a book by its covers’ applied to this situation almost too perfectly. 

But despite them jumping from store to store Jason had yet to choose a book. He’d gone from shelf to shelf, pointing out interesting looking books, reading the first few pages of some of them, but never stuck to one and always put them back on the shelves rather quickly.

It was only when they reached the three hour mark and they were taking a break from book shopping to eat some ice cream, that Bruce realized what the problem was. 

Jason wasn’t aware that he was allowed to choose some books and take them home with him. He thought they’d come to town to browse, like he’d done with his mother so often only a few years ago. 

Bruce was ashamed to admit that it had taken Jason hesitating to choose an ice cream and to believe Bruce that he was allowed to get more than one scoop, for him to realize it.

So when they made it to the next – and judging by the time the last – bookstore, he took Jason aside before they entered to talk to him.

“Jason,” he said with a grave voice, to get the boy’s attention. Jason froze immediately at his tone. When he turned around to face Bruce, he stayed a few feet away and watched him warily. Though he did a good job at hiding the reaction, it wasn’t good enough for Batman not to notice. Bruce cringed inwardly at the tone of his voice. He wanted to tell Jason to pick out some presents and not reprimand him. He put on a hint of a smile and made sure to use a softer tone with his next words.

“I just wanted to make sure you know you can take some books home with you. It’s your birthday. I would be more than happy to buy you some.” 

He hoped for Jason to jump up and down, bubbling over of joy and race into the store to get all the books he ever wanted in response, but he didn’t. Because this wasn’t any normal child, that was used to just getting gifts. No, this was a boy who had rarely, if ever, gotten a real present in his entire life.

Jason looked back at him, his head cocked to the side as if he was trying to solve a puzzle. “But… you already bought me ice cream.”

Of course, Jason would see the ice cream as a present. For Bruce, it was merely a small snack, not even worth to mention, but for Jason it was already something special. 

“That’s true, but that doesn’t mean you can’t also have a few books.”

“Why would I want one? There are already more than enough in the library at the manor.”

Valid point, Bruce thought to himself before he countered. “True, but there are many books we don’t have at the manor. And these would be yours. We could put a shelf in your room and you could start your own little library.” At that comment Jason’s eyes grew big and he looked unbelievingly at Bruce. 

So much to not overwhelming the boy. Telling him he could have his own library probably fell in that category, but oh well. It was too late now to take it back.

Jason’s eyes went back to normal, the boy sobering up before he replied. “But that would be stupid. Why would I need my own library?”

The sigh escaped Bruce before he even realized it. How could it be this hard to convince Jason to let Bruce buy him a birthday present?

“Alright, look. How about you choose one book? Just one.” He emphasized the suggestion holding up his index finger. 

In response Jason put his hands in his jacket’s pockets and raised one unsure eyebrow. “You sure?”

“Yes.” Bruce answered firmly. 

After a short moment, Jason nodded. It was small and quick, but there nonetheless. “’kay.”

And with that they finally entered the store, Bruce feeling a strange sense of accomplishment at finally having convinced Jason. At least if you didn’t count Jason’s question if Bruce was _really_ sure this was okay when he showed Bruce the book he’d chosen and they were standing in line to pay for it. Bruce wasn’t even going to try and persuade Jason into choosing more than one book. Instead he decided to be happy with what he had accomplished.

Once they were back out in front of the store, Bruce found himself in as big a bear hug as a malnourished thirteen-year-old boy could give him. In the first few seconds he was too perplexed to realize what was happening but then his arms closed around Jason’s small shoulders and he hugged him back equally fierce.

“Thank you,” Jason mumbled into the fabric of Bruce’s shirt.

“Happy Birthday, Jason,” Bruce said as he squeezed a bit tighter, holding his son as close as he possibly could. 

***

When Jason finally returned home after a long and strenuous night of patrol, he was exhausted. 

He arrived at his safe house and quickly climbed into the scarcely furnished apartment through one of the windows. Like every night after patrol he followed his nightly routine, taking off his helmet, the domino mask and the brown leather jacket first. Then he stripped off the rest of his armor, leaving him in only his boxers and being extra careful not to graze any of the wounds he’d sustained. To his luck, there were only a few bruises and the cuts on his forearm and neck. His reflexes had saved him from worse damage, but it was still too close for comfort. 

If he were allowed to use real bullets, the thug wouldn’t have gotten up so soon again and surprised him. Fucking bats and their rules.

Quickly storing away his equipment he strode past the bathroom, skipping the shower he would normally indulge in in favor of his bed. He was just too damn tired to care about his hygiene right now.

The moment his head hit the pillow he went out like a light. 

While he would like to say he’d had a restful sleep and woke up refreshed and ready for the new day, it would be a blatant lie. Nowadays that was rarely the case. So when he woke up his mind was groggy, not quite ready to return to the land of the living yet. He reached out to his phone, the dull digits on the display telling him it was only eight in the morning. Because why should he be allowed to at least have six hours of sleep. Apparently, that was too much to ask. 

He knew he wasn’t about to go back to sleep anytime soon, so with a groan he got up and put on a flimsy tank top. When he entered his living-room-slash-kitchen he immediately froze. 

Someone had been in his apartment while he’d been asleep and while he would like to say that observation was because of his detective skills, it wasn’t. Because in the middle of his small kitchen table sat a set of three wrapped and neatly arranged presents that most _definitely_ hadn’t been there when he’d returned earlier this morning.

There was a brief moment of confusion and fear, his heart beating faster and faster in his chest. Naturally, his first action was to see if the intruder was still in his apartment – which they weren’t – and then check his security systems. No alarms had been detected, so they’d bypassed his security without triggering it. Now, either it’d been a very skilled burglar or, the more probable possibility, a bat. Of course, it could also be a trap by any of his many adversaries, but there were a few problems with that theory.

First and foremost, why the fuck would they wrap a trap in gift wrap, the ugliest one he’d ever seen in his entire live on top of that. Second, why put a trap on his kitchen table when he was sleeping in the next room, unaware of the happenings next door and a perfect target for any perpetrator. Third, his name was written on one of the packages and no, not _Red Hood_ but _Jason_ and he recognized who had written it immediately. There was no way he couldn’t, when he had studied Alfred’s neat handwriting as a child thoroughly. That handwriting was an art in and of itself. 

And lastly, somewhere in the back of his mind there was a small light going up, when he finally tore his eyes away from the table to look at his phone’s lit display long enough to confirm the date.

It was August 16th. His birthday. A day he had very deliberately ignored for the past few years. But of course, as soon as he was on something akin to speaking terms with his family, he wasn’t allowed that luxury anymore.

With a sigh he stepped forward and reached for the smallest of the presents. In fact, it wasn’t even a package, it was only an envelope with a letter inside. The letter wasn’t long, just a short few words from Alfred, wishing him a happy birthday and telling him that he would be happy if they could maybe arrange a meeting to catch up on the past years over a cup of tea and some scones. 

To Jason’s surprise he found he already looked forward to seeing the old butler again. In all honesty, Alfred was the one he had the least problems with and missed the most out of his clusterfuck of a family. 

Next up was the package that he could only describe as an accident. Whoever this was from, they had clearly tried their hardest to wrap the present but failed miserably at it. The wrap itself was an offense against good taste – a swirly pattern of bright neon colors with _happy birthday_ written all over it in equally bright colors – and narrowed the list of people whom this could be from down to one. When he ripped the wrap away and revealed a keychain of a plush Nightwing, his suspicions were confirmed. 

Jason quickly put the keychain down on the table before he gave into his urge to throw the stupid thing in the trash or out the window. Why in heaven’s name Dick thought that this was a good present for him, was beyond him. Thinking of Dick, he’d probably had a sappy thought like ‘_this way I’ll always be with you_’ or some shit like that. On second thought, that probably _was_ his reasoning.

The last present on the table was a rectangle, neatly wrapped in a simple maroon colored paper. He took it in his hands and started removing the wrapping. It was only a small grain of self-control that kept him from dropping the present back on the table and leaving it there, because there wasn’t a shroud of doubt in him of who this must be from. 

It shouldn’t surprise him, not really. After all, Bruce had always been notoriously bad at minding his own business and leaving Jason the fuck alone. Additionally, this was his first birthday spent in Gotham since his family knew he was back alive and he hadn’t killed anyone in a long time. Naturally, for Bruce that meant, break into my son’s safe house while he’s sleeping in the other room.

Thinking about it, this was his first birthday since his death that he could actually celebrate. His first birthday where he wasn’t dead, or brain-damaged or straight out batshit crazy. 

The wrapping finally came off and revealed an old worn book cover that Jason would recognize anywhere. The edges were chipped and the pages yellowed but there wasn’t a shred of doubt in him that this was the birthday present Bruce had given to him on his first birthday at the manor so many years ago. The book was worn, clearly used and very much loved. Jason had read it many times before his death, still knew some passages by heart.

At first there was a surprising lack of emotions at seeing the book in his hands once again. Then a huff of laughter escaped him. He wasn’t quite sure if he was happy or not about getting it back. He hadn’t really thought about getting any of his things from the manor back into his possession. But thinking about it now, there were still so many things left in that mausoleum of a room. His guitar, all his pictures and books and the baseball Bruce had gifted him after going to a Gotham Knights game together. 

The memories of his 13th birthday were slowly coming back to him. He had been so nervous he’d barely slept the night before. But in the end, he’d had no reason to be nervous. The day had been one of the best of his life. Spending time with Bruce, eating ice cream until he was sick – not that he’d told Bruce about that – baking his first cake with Alfred and watching that stupid cartoon at the end of the day. 

With a hesitant and not at all shaking hand he opened the book, leafing through the first few pages of the book. Expecting to see his own handwriting there, spelling out his name, he was surprised to find the writing concealed by a small white card. Said card was lettered with a handwriting that, without a doubt, belonged to Bruce. 

_Dear Jason, this book should be with you, not gather dust here in the manor. I hope you’ll enjoy it as much as you did back then, son. Happy birthday and I love you, Bruce_.

Jason only realized that his brain finally caught up with what was happening when his vision suddenly blurred, obscuring the letters before him. 

_The fuck?_

He closed his eyes and vigorously scrubbed his hand over his lids to get rid of the tears before they could fall. Despite his efforts though a few lucky ones made it past his closed lids anyway and rolled down his cheeks. While he knew why he was crying – because he was a fucking softy, that’s why – he was still angry at himself for doing so. 

Fucking tears and fucking book and fucking Bruce. 

As much as he wished he could just forget about all this, get rid of the presents and act as if this never happened, he already knew how the rest of the day would play out. 

So instead of getting rid of the presents, Jason put the book back down on the table and reached for his phone. His fingers sped over the display, typing out a quick message and hitting send, before he could change his mind.

_Thanks for the book. U busy 2day?_

He barely had time to read his own message again, a hint of regret already setting in, when his phone vibrated in his hand, signaling a new message.

_You’re welcome. I’m happy you like it. No._

Already having sent the first message, he decided there was no chickening out of this now. 

_K. I’ll be @ the manor in 3h._

Without waiting for a reply, Jason put his phone away, went into his bathroom and took his suspended shower from yesterday. He had to hurry if he wanted to make it within the three promised hours. After all, he still had to go out and get some scones and tea before heading to the manor.

***

“Happy Birthday, Jason.” 

Tim let go of Jason and smiled at his brother. He was happy their plan had worked and Jason had decided to come to the manor to celebrate his birthday. They’d known that he probably would have shut down any invitation, so he had to decide to come on his own and lo and behold, it had worked. 

But he couldn’t help his lingering gaze on the keychain attached to Jason’s wad of keys, peaking out of his leather jacket’s pocket. A small plush Nightwing grinned back at him and his eyes immediately snapped to Dick who was currently squeezing the life out of Jason.

When they separated, Dick also zeroed in on the keychain and smiled up at Jason in a way that was almost creepily similar to the plush. But he knew better than to comment on it. Jason would probably throw it in his face and tell him to keep it, if he said anything about it.

Once Jason and the others finally made their way into the dining room, which was already decorated – and no, that wasn’t suspicious at all, but Dick had insisted they do it – he grabbed said brother by the arm and pulled him aside. 

“I thought we settled on not giving him any presents.”

“What do you mean?” Dick asked innocently, though it was beyond Tim why he even tried.

“You know exactly what I mean,” Tim sighed. “Or do you really think Jason suddenly wanted a Nightwing keychain that badly?”

“Maybe?” his brother tried, though he already started to drop his innocent act.

At least, Dick had the decency to look a little bit ashamed at Tim’s unfazed look.

“We promised Alfred,” he reminded his brother. The butler had asked them all in his grandfatherly way to not overwhelm Jason with presents. In other words, he had ordered them to do so and as was commonly known, Alfred’s word was law. That and they all remembered what had happened on their attempt to include Jason last Christmas.

“I know,” Dick finally admitted. “But he likes it.”

There was a moment of silence from Tim that displayed what exactly he thought of that. 

Before any of them could say anything more though, they were interrupted by a _tt_. 

“You’re a fool, Grayson.”

The two of them turned towards their youngest brother, just to watch Damian shake his head and turn around to head into the dining room. Dick turned back towards Tim and the two of them exchanged a quick glance. Then, Dick declared the conversation as finished with a quick shrug and followed Damian. 

Tim suppressed a groan and hoped dearly that this wouldn’t somehow turn into disaster as he also made his way to the dining room from where he could hear his family’s bright laughter.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really not all that happy with how this turned out, though I don't know why exactly. I tried to fix it, but this is the best it's gonna get. I hope you liked it anyways.  
I'm also on [tumblr](https://pudding-bretzel.tumblr.com/), so come on over, I'd love to chat with y'all. :D


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